


A Little Bit of Sugar; a Little Bit of Love

by synchronysymphony



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Baking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, fluffy fluff, small little babies, they are babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronysymphony/pseuds/synchronysymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien doesn't know how to bake. Marinette wants to teach him how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit of Sugar; a Little Bit of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharlotteCharade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteCharade/gifts).



“What do you _mean_ you’ve never baked before?”

Adrien shrugs. “My father’s pretty picky about who goes where in the house. That includes the kitchen. Besides, let’s be honest, I don’t think I would be very good at it.”

Marinette shakes her head firmly. This is rank heresy in her book. “Listen, Adrien. Anyone can be good at baking. All it takes is a little patience, and a little love.”

“Love?”

“Oh.” Marinette feels her face getting hot. “Um, you know. For the food. That’s all.”

Adrien smiles at her. It’s like watching the sun come out. “I guess I’ll trust you on that one. You’re the expert, after all.”

This is sweet, and Marinette definitely appreciates it, but it’s also giving her a Very Dangerous Idea, and this isn’t something she needs right now. Honestly, she’s busy enough, what with trying to avoid an appearance on Alia’s blog, and prepping for the Bac, and saving Paris from super-powered villains, and all the other normal things that teenage girls have to worry about. She doesn’t have time for any potential heartbreak.

“I do what I can,” she says, keenly aware that she’s not making any sense. Then, because her mouth is clearly not connected to her brain in any way, she blurts out her Very Bad Idea. “Do you want to come over and I can teach you how to make cupcakes?”

Adrien’s eyes widen in surprise, and for a second Marinette is certain he’s about to chew her out for coming on to him so obviously, but then a delighted grin breaks over his face, and he honest-to-goodness _squeaks_.

“Really? Yes, I really really do!”

Marinette thinks her heart is about to burst. Surely he can hear how hard it’s pounding. She’s not exactly sure what she says in reply, too caught up in the fact that _Adrien is coming over to her house_ , but by the time she comes back to herself, all the details for their private cooking class (ooh la-la) have somehow been arranged.

—

Adrien is right on time. Marinette wouldn’t have expected anything else; he’s a professional in every sense of the word, and of course this extends to her personal life as well. But she can’t help but be a little nervous, because she’s only managed to clean the kitchen three times, and if he’d just waited fifteen more minutes, showed up late like everyone else, she could have checked the sink for any dirty dishes one last time, and oh god, did she remember to clean out the bottom shelf of the refrigerator?

She’s so flustered that she barely notices the whisk in Adrien’s hand until he’s pushing it towards her. It’s a nice whisk, wire and silicon with a pastel-pink handle, but she’s not exactly sure what the purpose is.

“What– what’s this for?”

“For you.” Adrien looks nervous now, but he doesn’t take it back. “You know, for your house. I’m coming over for the first time, so I thought I should bring a gift. Is it okay?”

“Oh my goodness.” Marinette takes the whisk and admires it almost reverently. Really, she thinks, no floral bouquet could ever be this beautiful. Right now, she wouldn’t trade this humble kitchen utensil for the most expensive gift in the world. “Thank you so much,” she says. “I’ll make sure to take good care of it.”

Adrien smiles, clearly relieved, and Marinette feels her heart melt again. How is this boy so perfect? He’s sweet cream and caramel and pears in golden syrup and the scent of fresh strawberries in spring. She wants to put him on top of the prettiest cake in the world.

“Well, come in,” she says, belatedly realizing she’s left him standing on the doorstep for a frankly impolite amount of time. “The kitchen is this way! I think it’s time to put this new whisk to work, don’t you?”

Adrien smiles and follows her through the house, but he doesn’t say anything, and it strikes Marinette that he might actually be nervous. The thought would have been laughable a few months ago, before she knew him as anything but the suave poster-boy of Parisian teenage dreams, but now, now that she knows him a little better, she can see the shyness leaking out behind his polished exterior. 

“No one’s home,” she says. “Feel free to make yourself as comfortable as you want. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Um.” Adrien clears his throat experimentally, testing to see how dry it is, then nods. “Do you have any milk?”

“Of course. We’re bakers, you know.”

Marinette goes to the refrigerator and pours two glasses, one for him, and one for herself. She’s never met anyone over the age of ten who drinks milk by itself, but for some reason, everything Adrien does charms her, and this funny little request is no exception. She figures she might as well join him in his little lait-au-lait.

They sip at their milk in silence for a second, until Adrien makes a little ron-ron sound that’s so adorable that Marinette decides she needs to seek neutral ground immediately. It would be the absolute worst if she ended up confessing her feelings just because she liked the way he looked while he was drinking milk.

“So, your specialization. Have you decided which course you’re going to take?” she asks, then internally smacks her forehead. Of course he has. He’s probably been going to tutoring sessions for a year already.

“Honestly, no.”

“What?” Marinette stares at him over the rim of her still-half-full glass. “Are you serious?”

Adrien looks away and scratches the side of his nose in embarrassment. “I know, it’s kind of sad.”

“No, no!” Marinette hesitantly pats him on the arm, too light to be much of anything, but his eyes still widen in surprise. “I haven’t really decided either,” she says, determined to be honest now that he has. “I was thinking of philosophy initially, but I really like literature better, and they always say we should play to our strengths, you know?”

“Exactly!” Adrien sets down his empty glass (really, how did he drink all that milk so fast?) and turns his attention completely to her. “I wanted to do philosophy also, but my father wants me to go for maths. And I would, but I’m not so good at that, so I don’t know. It’s going to be my whole life, you know? Not his. But he wants to be in charge of everything, I guess.”

Marinette can sympathize, but she can’t put herself in his place. Minor arguments aside, she’s always been supported with what she chooses to do. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know I don’t know him, so I shouldn’t judge, but I wish your father was more understanding.”

“It’s okay to judge.” Adrien’s eyes crinkle in understated amusement. “I mean, that’s basically all he does, so we might as well turn it back on him, right?”

Marinette doesn’t know what to say to this, so she just goes to the cabinet to take out her baking supplies. “Well, cupcakes never judge,” she says. “Let’s do this thing.”

—

Adrien is adorably incompetent in the kitchen. Marinette would never have expected it, since he seems so smooth and clever with everything he does, but she supposes everyone has to have a weakness, and apparently, cooking is his. He’s got butter-fingers of the worst kind; it’s only sheer luck (and battle-honed reflexes) that allows Marinette to save her last carton of eggs when he somehow manages to drop it off the counter. 

“Sorry,” he says. The tip of his nose is pink. “I’ve never done this before.”

Marinette is comfortable enough now to nudge him with her elbow. “No beginner’s luck, then?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Adrien smiles at her, playful. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

 _Oh_. Marinette has to hide her blushing face behind her mixing bowl. “Monsieur Agreste, you charmer.”

“ _Lucky_ charmer.”

The paranoid part of Marinette tenses up at this, but of course there’s no way he could know about her secret double life, not with that innocent smile of his, so she just nudges him one more time and passes the mixing bowl his way.

“Here, whisk this, will you?”

Adrien takes the bowl and starts trying to stir the mixture, much too slowly to be useful. It looks like he’s stirring a cup of hot chocolate. Marinette tuts at him.

“No, not like that! You have to use more power. Here, let me show you.”

Before she can stop herself, she’s stepped behind him and reached around him to guide his hand. He’s a little taller than she is, so it only makes sense for her to rest her chin on his shoulder. And since she only needs one hand to mix, it’s perfectly reasonable for her to place the other one on his waist. Right?

Adrien doesn’t seem to mind. His body is warm and natural against hers, and he’s making that little purring sound again. After a second, he nudges her grip loose on the whisk so he can sneak his hand under hers.

“This is twice as much power, right?” he says, when she fails to tighten her grasp. “It’s twice as much love that we’re putting in here.”

Marinette is thankful that his back is to her so he can’t see her blushing. Honestly, the things this boy says. How is she expected to last?

All too soon, the mixture is whisked to perfection, and though Marinette wants to linger, she knows the cupcakes will suffer for it. So she pulls away (if it’s a little slower than necessary, no one has to know), and nudges Adrien with her hip.

“It’s time to put in the dry ingredients.”

Adrien brightens up. “The flour mixture!”

“You’re learning.”

Marinette gives him a bright smile as she skates around the kitchen island to retrieve the other mixing bowl. He’s so enthusiastic about all this, despite his complete lack of expertise. It warms her heart more than any promise of fresh-baked sweets.

“Here we go,” she says, nudging the egg mixture towards Adrien. “Can you pour this into the flour while I whisk it in?”

Adrien looks a mite worried now. “But what if I spill?”

“Then we’ll mix it again. It’s not like we’re running short on time here.”

Immediately, Marinette regrets her words. What if they _are_ running short on time? What if Adrien has to be somewhere, and she’s keeping him from his obligations? But she doesn’t have to worry long. Adrien just gives her a bright, genuine smile that makes her stomach flip.

“You’re right.”

Together, they mix the two sets of ingredients into one, lovely, rich batter that Marinette wants to dip her finger in to taste. She doesn’t, though, not sure how picky Adrien is about germs and salmonella and the like. Instead, she goes over to the cabinet to take out her parchment paper and three tins. In their zeal, they’ve doubled the recipe, and it’s pretty likely that they’re going to have lots of extra treats.

“Here you go,” she says, tossing the roll of parchment paper over to Adrien. He fumbles a bit, but manages to catch it in both hands.

“What’s this?”

“It’s to line the cupcake tins. That way, we don’t have to grease the pan.”

Adrien’s smile lights the room. “Oh, I see! How clever! I never knew bakers had so many tricks like this.”

Marinette wants to laugh, because really, it’s just parchment paper, but Adrien is looking at her like she set the sun in the sky, and she can’t bring herself to say anything. She comes around the counter to stand at his side, and slides one of the tins in front of him.

“Let’s start lining these. There’s a little trick to folding the paper just right.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not so hard, but you have to make sure there aren’t any places where the batter can get through, otherwise it will stick and burn.”

Adrien touches her hand lightly. “Show me.”

There’s no way Marinette can refuse a request like that, now, is there? Fully aware of how badly she’s blushing, she tears off a sheet of parchment paper to begin her demonstration.

Adrien proves to be much more adept at folding than he is at baking. In record time, they’ve prepared all the pans of cupcakes, and have popped them into the oven. Now at a loss, Adrien looks at her in what can only be described as wonder.

“What do we do now?”

Marinette reaches into the drawer in front of her, and with a dramatic flourish, draws out her electric mixer. “Now, we make the frosting.”

Making frosting is quick and painless, even for Adrien, who’s delighted to learn how simple it is. He mixes with so much energy that it gels in no time, and they’re left to wait another few minutes while the cupcakes finish browning. 

Left for the first time without any interfering task, Marinette isn’t sure exactly what to do. It’s easy to cook with someone, but talking to them one-on-one like this– that’s much harder. She sneaks a look at Adrien, only to find that he’s studying her already, a crooked little half-smile on his face. Their eyes make contact, and it’s as if the air between them is charged all of a sudden. Adrien steps forward, just a fraction, but enough to make Marinette’s heart do a loop-de-loop.

“Mari…” he begins.

Marinette doesn’t know what comes over her. She really doesn’t. Later, she thinks, she can blame the heat of the kitchen, or the scent of spices in the air, or maybe just the fact that baking makes a bond between people that can’t be ignored, but for now, the only thing matters is that she’s standing on her tiptoes, leaning up and kissing Adrien Agreste right on the mouth.

Adrien makes a stunned little noise in his throat, but he doesn’t pull away, and in a second, his hands come up to rest on Marinette’s waist. And, a split second after that, he’s kissing her back.

 _He’s kissing her back_.

Marinette could never have imagined this scenario, not even in her wildest dreams (well, maybe some of her wildest dreams), but now she knows that whatever fantasies she might have had, they would have been nothing compared to the real thing. Adrien is warm and soft and he tastes like sugar and vanilla (did he sneak a taste of the batter when she wasn’t looking?) and above all, he’s _real_. Marinette knows she’s not dreaming; no dream could be as beautiful as this.

She’s the first one to pull away, and is it her imagination, or does Adrien chase her mouth a little? She doesn’t pull out of Adrien’s arms, and he doesn’t step away.

“I…” she begins.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for weeks,” breaks in Adrien, voice rushed. “I didn’t know if you would– I was working on a plan just in case– but I was hoping you would.”

“What? Weeks?” Marinette can’t believe this. This ridiculous boy has returned her feelings for weeks, and he’s never told her? “You should have gone for it,” she says, poking him gently in the chest.

Adrien flusters a little. He looks like he would be rubbing his ear if his hands weren’t busy holding Marinette. “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.”

“You weren’t sure if I…? Oh my goodness. Adrien, I’ve been the most obvious girl alive.”

“That’s what Nino said, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

This makes Marinette smile. Now she knows for sure she found the right one. “Well,” she says. “Now you know. And I know. So I think there’s only one thing left to do.”

Adrien looks at her, eyes wide and (dare she say it?) adoring. “What’s that?”

Marinette gives him her sharpest smile before she grabs his collar to drag him down for a kiss. It’s longer than their last one, and when she breaks away, Adrien’s obviously short of breath. He’s adorable. Marinette lifts her finger and taps him right on the cupid’s bow of his lip.

“Now,” she says. “We’re going to make up for lost time.”

—

Their cupcakes turn out very burned. It’s hard to watch the timer when they’re so otherwise occupied. Adrien is disappointed at first that the fruits of their labor have turned out for nothing, but Marinette just smiles and takes his hand.

“Don’t worry, chaton. This is a good thing.”

Adrien tips his head. “Why’s that?”

“Because.” Marinette lifts up his hand and drops a kiss on the back of his palm. “This means you still haven’t baked to completion yet. Don’t you think another lesson is in order?”

Now Adrien is smiling right back at her, honey and milk. “I do. Would you happen to know someone who could turn this raw beginner into a seasoned pro?”

“I just might.” Marinette smiles at him, wide as can be. “I just might.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://synchronysymphony.tumblr.com)


End file.
